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Thursday, 14 November 2013

Seoia Saturday - A Sentimental Journey

Sepia Saturday give bloggers an opportunity to share their family history and memories through photographs.

I featured Doorways to Lifein a recent August prompt, so had to think hard about this one, without repeating photographs.

I remember my mother wearing an overall (plus her hair in a turban) for washday Mondays - but in no way would she have had her photograph taken like that.

So here is a sentimental journey into family memories against a background of doors and windows.

"There was a little girl who had a little curl

Right in the middle of her forehead".

I am the little girl, perched on the step of our back door, though the curl soon disappeared and I have never known my hair anything other than naturally straight.

The same back garden. This is a younger image of my mother as I can only remember her with grey hair - I have no recollection of having a kitten either. Nowadays I think we would move that dustbin out of the way before taking a photograph!

Both Edith and Kathleen enjoyed fashion, and made their own clothes on a treadle machine - their house did not have electricity until 1958. They regularly went dancing at the Winter Gardens, and the Tower Ballrooms in Blackpool - where my mother met my father.

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My father with my mother on the right and her sister (my aunt Edith) on the left. I guess this was taken around 1941 before Dad went off to war.

In 1936 before he married, my father went to work in Liverpool and had digs with the Pettigrew family. He recollected that"My landlady Mrs Pettigrew was on the stage at one time with Rob Wilton, (a well known northern comedian) and her husband was the manager of the Shakespeare Theatre in Liverpool. Her daughter was called Renee"Dad remained in touch with the family long after and I have memories of us
visiting them in Liverpool in the early 1950's and playing with Mrs
Pettigrew's granddaughter Gaye.However
I did not like it when the conversation turned to their war time experiences of
being in the air raid shelters during the heavy bombing inflicted on the city. The
photograph in the doorway of their home shows my mother at the back, with Renee in front with Mrs
Pettigrew behind Gaye.I am the little
girl (almost cut off) with the toothless grinand crochet square cardigan - one my mother's handiworks, as was the smocked shirt worn by my brother Chris (with his head down).

Thirty years on and this is my little daughter playing hide and seek in a doorway at the ruined Heritage Castle near Hawick in the Scottish Borders.

Hermitage Castle was a favourite outing and here on the right in the white coat is my aunt Peggy who emigrated to Australia in 1949 shortly after her marriage.She returned for her only visit c.1980 and came up to Scotland. Here with my Aunt Edith (her sister), myself and my young daughter.

Daughter (in work uniform) now grown up and proudly showing off her new home.

16 comments:

A wonderfully happy progression of family photographs. Your Mom & aunt are to be commended for sewing their own clothing on a treadle machine! And quite fashionable duds they were, too. Loved their smartly cocked hats. On your father, too, in the next photo. Confident adventurous people will do that. :)

Nice photos, but it seems sad that you only remember your mother with grey hair.i assume she went grey early. Also sad that your aunt only returned once. My mother-in-law came to Australia as a war bride, but has returned many times. She's now in her late 80s, and since my father-in-law died in 1992, she has gone every year to visit her mother and siblings.

Lovely photos and tales along with them...the sisters in the 30's made me recall my relatives early use of treadle machines...look at the clothing they designed and made using that, remarkable. The doorway photo with the Pettigrews is also interesting, comparing faces of the crowd and had you not pointed it our, I would have missed the person in the doorway. A great post

About Me

I have been interested in family history for years. It all began when I was allowed as a child to look through the old family photographs and memorabilia kept in a shoebox in the cupboard at my grandfather's house. That treat started me on a fascinating ancestral trail.